The Sniper and the Angel
by Freddy Jr
Summary: Longshot, the rarely seen sniper of Overwatch, meets his fate, in many ways. but rarely does the obvious end mean less than a new beginning...
1. Capture

"Hey, Boss... You expecting company?" John Doe asked McCree through his comms.

"Not really. Keep your sights on 'em. Don't want them pulling anything."

"That'll be a problem. There's a fuckin bus load of them. This here gauss rifle can blow a few apart, but..."

"How far out?"

"A minute or two... Damn are they armed... I'm guessing government."

"Slow them down."

"Fuck yeah." Suddenly a few large blasts were heard, followed by the sound of screeching brakes, then yelling. "They'll be callin a wrecker, but they're still comming."

"Damnit. Let's go."

"Boss! More are coming from the south! It's a setup!" More blasts can be heard. "Swapping batteries!"

"John! Get out of here!...John?"

"...Little late for that boss... Run."

_Later that day_

John sat in a blank room with one-way mirrors around on three sides. He was sitting at the table, a fairly regular looking teenager, dirty blonde hair, piercing in one ear, dirty brown leather coat, pair of denim jeans, a pair of decent work boots, and cuffs on his hands hooked to the table next to his tattered cowboy hat.

A man in a suit entered and closed the door behind him. He tossed a folder of documents on the table. A few pictures slipped out, one a satellite image of John on top of a Mesa, looking through the scope of his rifle. Another, McCree teaching him how to shoot with revolvers, yet another with Ashe doing the same with a rifle.

"So, John Doe, real name John Wagner, age 14, parents deceased, father in combat, mother in mugging, sniper for the Deadlock gang. Am I missing anything?" John stared at him blankly. "I'm here to make an offer, one that you really can't refuse."

"I'm listening." John said, doubtful look spreading on his face.

"Instead of spending the rest of your life in a maximum security prison, which is no problem with your rapsheet, you could join Overwatch as a sniper, where you could put your skills to the test and do some good for the world."

"Really? Just like that?"

"Just like that."

"The catch being?"

"If you join and try to escape, we leave you in the middle of the ocean."

"...damnit... Fine."

"Is that a yes?"

"Yeah."

"Good. You'll need a code name... Oh wait, you already have one, don't you, Longshot?"

_A few months later_

John was stepping off the transport with his hands still in cuffs. "Longshot, you son of a bitch!" McCree said as he wandered over and placed an arm around his friend.

"They gotcha drug into this mess to, eh Boss?" John asked with the first smile on his face since he was captured.

"Yep, looks like they know where all the talent is. They're still finding people to do their dirty work."

"Heh, watch as we end up taking the fall for anything they fuck up with."

"McCree! Wagner! Get over here!" Commander Reyes shouted at them.

"Time for the briefing, kid." McCree said as he led John to the briefing tent.

"Took your time... Now that we're all here, the mission is extraction. We will be pulling out a group of civilians and doctors, including a Dr. Angela Ziegler from a medical facility. Priority is Dr. Ziegler. Under no circumstances is she to be injured or killed, or I'll see all of you put where you belong. Wagner, you'll be on top of the local antenna doing overwatch. If you so much as think about putting this mission in danger, I will..."

"Leaving me in the middle of the ocean is the go-to threat." John said before Reyes could finish. The entire room looked at him in surprise, save McCree who put his head in his hand.

"Go. Leave and get your gear." Reyes said with malice dripping from every syllable. The rest of the room looked completely astounded as John got up and walked off.


	2. At the Angel's Mercy

"You know he's going to kill you, right?" McCree asked Longshot over coms.

"You know that A. I don't care, and B. He can hear you?" Longshot said back.

"No he can't."

"Both of you shut up." Reyes said finally.

"Wagner, report."

"Which is it? Shut up or report?"

"Now!"

"Ahead of you and to the left is a burning car with two dead. Behind it is someone with a shotgun looting the driver. Possible threat."

"Deal with it." Suddenly a blast was heard echoing from the far off antenna.

"Done. Clear road to the medical tents. Who's this Dr. Ziegler anyway? What's she look like?"

"She's head of Overwatch's medical research team. Blond hair, teenager, thin frame."

"Looks like an angel?"

"What?"

"Found her. Local bandit forces approaching the site. Permission to fire?

"Do it." A single blast was heard... followed by another large one. "What was that?"

"Their transport going down in flames."

"Any civilian casualties?"

"Nope... Oooh, one stubborn bastard climbing out of the wreckage..." Another shot. "Ahh... Pink mist looks wonderful in the sunlight."

\--a few minutes later--

"Dr. Ziegler." Reyes said as he approached her.

"Not now, I need to stop this bleeding."

"Miss, we have to extract you."

"I said not now, Reyes."

"Comment on how lovely her stiches are." John said over coms.

"Who was that?"

"Our new sniper."

"Where is he at?"

"Old tv antenna" Came the voice over coms.

"But that is almost five kilometers away!"

"Hair under three miles there, Angel." Came the voice.

"Amazing... There. Done. Nurse, can you close up?" She asked getting a nod in return. She pulled off her gloves and threw them into a garbage can labeled "HAZMAT MEDICAL WASTE"

"Now, you said you wanted to begin extracting me?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Very well, but I want to meet this sniper of yours. It is quite a feat to see so much detail over such a distance, even with a scope."

"She hasn't seen the scope I built for this thing."

"Fine, you can meet him. Squad, move out."

"Road is clear to extraction point."

\--An hour later--

"Where are we off to, Reyes?" Dr. Ziegler asked as the group climbed onto the transport.

"First to pick up the sniper, then back to your lab."

"Fine, but I plan on giving this sniper of yours a full physical, not to mention I'll be pulling his medical records."

"Pull my what?"

"He might like that." McCree snickered to the guy next to him.

"Sounds like jealousy to me, Boss..." Came the voice from the coms.

"Shit." McCree said as he checked if his coms were on.

\--Minutes later--

The transport floated to the tower and the door on the rear opened up into a ramp. Longshot leaped from the tower onto the hovering vehicle and the door closed behind the sniper.

"That went well." He said as he passed his commanding officer.

"Hmmph"

Longshot continued forward until he found a seat, just across from the Dr. "So you're the sniper... A bit younger then I was expecting..."

"Speak for yourself, your only a couple years older then me. How's a teenager become a doctor?"

"Much the same as you became a sniper. Constant practice and study. The difference is I use a scalpel to heal and you use a rifle to kill."

"Heh, I can tell you which is both faster and easier."

"Indeed... Tell me about your rifle."

"Hand built by myself, high powered gauss rifle, firing two millimeter rice grain shaped tungsten rounds fired at ten percent the speed of light. I can take out almost any vehicle or mech in the world with this thing."

"Intriguing... How does it propel the rounds at such a high speed?"

"I use a series of electromagnets and capacitors. Why? Thinking of switching sides?"

"No, thinking how much more dangerous battle could become if that technology is utilized everywhere... I will have to study the effects that causes on the human body..." She pulled out a pen and a pad of paper and began taking notes.

"If I find one that doesn't mostly vaporize after taking a shot from this, I'll let you know." He said as he tipped his hat forward, covering his eyes and letting him sleep.

\--A few hours later--

Dr. Ziegler sat in the medical tent reading through the files of John Wagner, hand over her mouth in shock at some of the entries. "Mein god..." She whispered to herself.

"Yo doc!" Wagner's voice came as he approached the tent.

"Come in!" She said almost absent mindedly.

He watched her reading and rereading sections, taking notes every so often. "Anything good in there?" He asked making her look up in surprise.

"How are you even capable of thought?"

"Evolution, Angel."

"That doesn't explain how you can currently function. You've seen more combat at such a young age then most middle-aged veterans, not to mention the lingering psychological issues from watching your mother murdered in front of you weeks after finding out your father died in combat."

He sat there for a moment, looking over her face. He saw something he didn't see very often, concern for him. "I survived. I adapted. I overcame. That's all there is to it."

"Even so... Alright. Time for your physical. Shirt off."

Longshot pulled off his button up flannel t-shirt as well as the sleeveless undershirt underneath revealing a scarred but healthy upper body, old bullet wounds from grazed to clean through shots were everywhere.

"Mein god... There's even more then recorded..."

"I've been busy."

"Pulling off more heists?"

"It's all there was for me."

"How so?" She asked as she began noting the many scars.

"My family wasn't exactly well off before my parents died, and after, I met McCree and he's been like an older brother to me. He watches my back and I watch his."

"I can understand that... Arms up and bend over, I need to check your spine for scoliosis."

"Yes ma'am."

"... Good, no signs there. Pants and trousers off."

"Not even dinner first?" He said as he began undoing his belt.

"Cute." She mumbled as she jotted down more notes. When she looked up, she saw his back to her and him laying his pants on the table. The first thing she noticed was more scars that weren't recorded before, the next was that a few were on an otherwise nice ass. "More scars? How much combat have you really seen?"

"More than most, and with my luck, it'll kill me before I make it to twenty five." He said as he turned around, revealing a six inch shaft.

"Uh... R...right." She stumbled on a simple word as she saw all of him. She began jotting down more of his scars, but couldn't help thinking of other things. "Alright, time to check for a hernia." She said with a bit too much glee as she knelt down and put one gloved hand between his nuts and his inner thigh. "Cough for me." He did so, clearly uncomfortable. Then she switched sides, "Again." And once again he complied, though she could tell something was getting hard for him to manage. "Alright, you can put your pants back on." She managed to say without much emotion, though she couldn't help looking when he was pulling his drawers up. "Alright, lay on your back on the table."

"Sure" he said as he flipped himself up onto it.

She switched to a new pair of gloves, moved over to him, set her hands on his lower abdomen and began kneading. "Any pain when lifting heavy items or climbing?"

"Nope."

"Good, no hernia. Lots of scars, but all are healing well... Is this one a bite mark?" She asked as she moved her hands to trace it with her fingers.

"Yeah, scared up a pack of wild dogs not too long before my capture. Scared most of them off, but one was stubborn. I ate well that night."

"You ate a dog?" She asked completely perplexed.

"There ain't much for wild game to hunt back home. Most of it went extinct decades ago. Also, it ain't bad, it's just a little ruff." He joked, earning a slight smile that Dr. Ziegler was trying to hide.

"Alright you can get dressed. You're plenty fit for action, if a bit young."

"Careful, Angel. You might miss me when I go." He joked as he put his shirts on and left the tent.

"Angel?" She asked, but saw he was already gone.

\--Several minutes later--

"So how'd it go?" McCree asked.

"I think she likes me." John said with a smile.

"Ha! You're gonna do just fine here!"


	3. Well Shit

\--several years later--

"Christ, Boss, some of these missions are just plain sad. I'll shoot terrorists all day, but infiltrating buildings to extract criminals is kinda basic." Longshot said over coms.

"It's our job, kid. And if this keeps us out of prison, I'm doin it."

"Fair enough. Guard on the left, ten feet ahead."

"Got it. Can you see the target?"

"Possible positive in the next room. Three heat signatures, one behind a desk." Longshot watched through his scope as the group burst into the room and grabbed the guy. Suddenly, he heard a ping from his portable computer on his arm. He turned on the screen, and saw a message from a user tagged "Mercy". He popped it open and read bits of it between looking through his scope. "Huh, I'm being transferred to the Overwatch Strike Force."

"Really? What for?"

"Doesn't say... From someone named Mercy..."

"Heh, sounds like you're gonna have some fun."

"So long as it's some action, it's fine with me."

\--The next day--

Longshot stepped off the plane and was handed his gear from an Overwatch agent. "Thanks. Know where I'm going?"

"Yes sir. If you'll follow me, I'll take you to Mercy."

"Who exactly IS Mercy?"

"If you don't know, it's probably for a reason. This way sir."

"I hate being the last to know shit..."

"Yes sir." The agent said as he led Longshot into the main facility and to a room on the third floor. "In here, sir. Mercy will be with you in a few minutes."

John sat at the table for close to ten minutes, then opened up his gear and began taking apart his rifle, cleaning the barrel, checking the connections to the capacitors, and after fifteen minutes of cleaning, he put it back together, and set it on the table. Then he got to work on his revolver. This was quicker, he pulled it apart, cleaned the barrel and chambers, then put it back together, and sat it on the table too.

He sat there for a little while longer. Then began putting his rifle and revolver back in the case. He picked up the case and went for the door, only to walk headfirst into Dr. Ziegler.

"God damnit..." He grumbled as he rubbed his new bump on his head. He then looked up at who he ran into. "Oh, sorry, Angel. Didn't see you there."

"No, I shouldn't have kept you waiting so long..."

"So you're Mercy?" John asked with a slightly puzzled look on his face.

"Yes, yes I am."

"You really don't seem like a combat medic." He said as he set his case back on the table.

"How so?" She asked as she sat down in a chair at the table.

"From what I gathered, you hate anything where people get hurt. Not to mention you're rather outspoken about the military aspects of Overwatch in general."

"True, however, being a part of Overwatch allows me to save more lives by advancing medical technology. I've already created a suit that allows human cells to age at a slower rate. Something that comes close to halting ageing."

"Well shit. That'll help with overpopulation." He said rolling his eyes.

"What do you mean?"

"There was a man that wrote a book back in the mid twentieth century that predicted the rise of human populations would result in famine and starvation, and pushed for a total reworking of society to alleviate the impending disaster that human breeding tendencies were destined to cause."

"You.. You're talking about the book The Population Bomb, by Paul Ehrlich, correct?" She asked, clearly surprised at the turn the conversation took.

"Yep, before the Omnic Crisis, the world was reaching about ten billion people, and the effects were already being felt. Then the crisis hit and the population dropped to eight point five. But with tech like your suit supposedly has will allow people to live to, what, one fifty? One sixty? With human reproduction as it is, we'll be back at ten billion by the end of the next decade. And we'll be right back where we started. Granted, if people start getting into the trend of fucking the omnics, like I've heard, we may have another three to four decades before we have to worry about that... But we will have to. And unless we can start colonizing other bodies in our solar system, we may run into the problem regardless. Shit, even IF we start colonizing other worlds, we'll eventually die out from war, or a rampant supervirus, or if you really want to get crazy, an extraterrestrial invasion."

Dr. Ziegler sat there, stunned at the constant flow of words that came from his mouth.

"Last thing you expected from this country sniper was a brain, eh?" He said with a smirk. "Or did I lose you at the "humans fucking omnics" part?"

"...do you always have a constant stream of thoughts running through your head?" She finally asked.

"As a rule, yes. Why?"

"No reason... Just wondering how you manage to function on a daily basis..."

"Hey, I pay my taxes one leg at a time just like everyone else."

"Is that a reference to something?"

"You may never know... Now, why did you transfer me here?"

"We need you to go to to Australia."

"The deadliest place on earth?"

"Correct, troubles are brewing since the Australian government gave the omnium and the surrounding areas to the local omnics."

"Soooo what? Want me to incite chaos or prevent a revolution?"

"Right now, keep the natives from assaulting the omnium or the omnics."

"My backup?"

"Me."

"Really? I'd ask if you're ready to walk through hell, but that's a paradise in comparison."

"Cute, for the most part, we'll be trying to keep the peace, and hopefully, nothing will come from this."

"You'll forgive me if I know better, Angel. Humans are a violent species, constantly fighting with itself. If they get pissed off enough, they're gonna tear that factory apart."

"And that is exactly what we are going to try to stop."

\--Three weeks later--

Mercy and Longshot sat in a bar in Sydney, waiting for their drinks.

"Well that sucked." John said as his whiskey and beer back arrived first.

"I can't say I was expecting an extremely obese man on a motorcycle to be capable of such destruction..." Mercy said as she watched the reports on the tv roll by.

"It never ceases to amaze me how often it is the ones you least expect who are the ones that cause shit to hit the fan..." He said after he took a swig from his beer. "This local brand ain't bad..." He mumbled to himself.

"All the people and omnics killed in the blast..." Mercy whispered to herself...

John sat there for a moment then waved the bartender over. "Lets get some shots going for the two of us." He whispered to the middle aged man who nodded and grabbed a bottle from the shelf and a pair of clean shot glasses from under the counter. He set the glasses down in front of the recipients and filled them up.

"Hey, Angel." John said as he put his hand on her shoulder, making her jump.

"What?"

"Drink this quick, it'll make you feel better." He said as he handed her the shot in front of her. She quickly downed it and John motioned for another round.

"When will I start feeling better?"

"In about ten minutes after you've had four or five more.

\--Half an hour later; Ten shots in--

"You know..." Mercy slurred as she looked at Longshot who was paying the tab. "When I first met you... I kinda liked you. Though you were kinda hot and really naked."

"Yeah, and I was to young for you to jump on." He said as he helped her up and out of the bar.

"Only legal *hic* legally. Human males can start ejaculating at age thirteen on average. You were fourteen if my *hic* memory serves. So unless you were a late bloomer, which is unlikely because I had your nuts next to my hand when I checked you for a hernia." She said as they stumbled to their hotel across the street.

"So you WERE checking me out back then! McCree owes me twenty bucks."

"The cowboy?" She asked, getting a nod in return. "What is he to you?"

"Something like a father or older brother." He answered.

"That's right... You lost your parents in the omnic crisis too." She said as she looked at the man holding her up. "You're of legal age now... Right?"

"Angel, I'm two years younger then you, and you're twenty five. Even drunk you should know that."

"Why do you call me Angle?"

"Angel, and because you look like one, especially with your suit on."

"Right, the wings... Come on, I want to tear your clothes off!" She slurred as she pushed herself into her room.

"Right, how long since you've thrown up?"

"What?"

"Wait for me in the bathroom."

"You bet *hic* hotness." She said as she stumbled into the restroom.

John started counting and by the time he hit fourteen, he could hear the tell-tale sounds of a woman puking in the next room. He walked towards the door and missed, catching the door with his shoulder and stumbling to the ground next to Mercy. He noticed she was having trouble keeping her hair out of her face, so he did what he could to help out. They fell asleep on the floor.


	4. Love takes hold

John woke up with a headache and a woman's head on his shoulder. He tried to open his eyes as much as he could, if only to see if his suspicions were correct on who was sleeping next to him. As he cracked his eyes, he saw golden blonde hair and the face of an angel. He closed his eyes, and just laid there, and for a nice moment he felt calm. Until the door opened and he heard voices.

"Heh, I figured that might happen." A voice that sounded like McCree said.

John lifted his arm that wasn't covered by a woman and stuck his middle finger up at the direction the voice came from, earning a laugh.

"Come on, kid, let's get you and your girlfriend outta here." McCree said as he picked up Mercy and let the agent next to him help up John.

"Sorry, boss. Had a hell of a night."

"Ha! I bet! At least you two still have your clothes on."

\--Twenty minutes later--

John and Angel were sleeping next to one another on the plane headed to the Overwatch headquarters in Zürich, Switzerland. McCree was sitting in a seat talking to Jack Morison, the Strike commander of Overwatch. After nearly two hours, Mercy began to wake up and look around.

"Where are we? Oh mein god, my head hurts."

"On a plane bound for headquarters, Angela." Jack said as he looked at Mercy holding her head in her hands.

"Little tip for drinking, Angel: drink water with it. It cuts down on the hangover." John said with a smile from under his hat, causing McCree to snicker a little.

"I hope the two of you are ready for your debrief..." Jack said with a sideways glance and a smirk.

"Fat man on a motorcycle blew up the factory, chief." John said from under his hat.

"What really happened, Dr. Ziegler?"

"We were trying to keep the angry natives from attacking the Omnium, when a very obese man on a motorcycle road by and entered the omnium. We can only assume he caused the explosion that leveled the factory."

"Told you."

"Well... Shit. Then what happened?"

"We went back to Sydney, had ten rounds of whiskey shooters, and passed out in the bathroom." John said.

"Nice." McCree said with a smile.

"*sigh* I can't say I wouldn't do the same if I were there too... Either way, we're heading back to hq, we may have another mission.

\--a few months later--

John was firing shot after shot at the old bastion units littering the area he was camped in.

"Hey, enough." Mercy said as she put her hand on his shoulder.

"One of these fucking things killed my father, and we already know they can reactivate after long periods of time."

"I know, but there isn't much left of any of them, at this point, you're just wasting batteries. Come on..."

"...alright..."

The two of them walked the two miles back to their campsite, not saying a word, Mercy's arm around John as they walked.

When they got there, Jack was looking through a pair of binoculars over the valley to where a large group of omnic extremists were camped.

"One good thing about that tantrum you had was they think we're over where you were. They seem to be fortifying in that direction. What was with that anyway?"

"I was wasting what was left of the bastion units that killed my father."

"Fair enough... Take a look through your scope, see if you can spot anything that could use a shot over there."

"Suppressor?"

"Good idea, don't want them knowing where we are..."

John pulled the rifle off his back and grabbed the removable suppressor from his pack, attached it to his rifle's barrel, laid on the ground and started looking.

"Alright, camp is right there... They got a bunch of turrets that are guarding that place... That many means they need a big ass generator... There it is... Shot to that would put off a nice emp... Permission to fire?"

"Do it." And with that a shot was heard from the rifle, not nearly as loud as normal, but not quiet either. "I thought you had that thing suppressed?"

"No suppressor on earth makes a gun completely silent. You should know that. Also, most of those omnics are dead. The emp took most of them out."

"Good finish the rest and we can get out of here."

"Yes sir." John said as he fired off five more shots, each had at least four seconds between them as he lined up his shots.

"Good work, Sweetheart." Mercy said to the sniper as he got up, then gave him a quick kiss on his cheek.

"Hey, you want to get married?" He asked her when Jack was out of earshot.

"What brought this up?"

"I was thinking about what I told you years ago, that with my luck, I wouldn't make it past twenty five... I'm twenty four now, so if I don't ask you to marry me soon, I may never get the chance..."

"Does that mean... Are you..."

John thought for a moment. "Yeah I guess I am. Will you marry me?" Instead of an answer, he got her pulling him into a hug, and kissing him fully and deeply. "Is that a yes?" He asked with a smile when she finally broke the kiss.

"Yes!"

"Great!"

"Oh but we can't tell anyone yet, I want it to be a surprise!"

"I can live with that."

"John, I need you to go to Boston when your done over there. Somethings up."

"What kind of something?"

"Some kind of bomb threat by an extremist group."

"When do I leave?"

"The jet will drop you off on our way to hq."

"Works for me." He said with a smile as he looked to his new fiancee.

\--Two hours later--

John and Angela were snuggling together on the plane for a little while, with Angela peering at Jack from time to time. Finally, she whispered in John's ear; "Follow me to the bathroom... Quietly."

She got up and left, and he waited a few minutes then followed her, passing a snoring Jack on his way to meet his love.

As he opened the door, he saw the most beautiful sight he had ever seen, Angela bent over, spreading her ass cheeks, with her shaved pussy glistening with her nectar. "Hurry up, we don't want Jack to notice we're gone."

He responded simply by kneeling down, placing a hand on both of her cheeks, and giving a long, slow lick upwards from just below her clothes to the top of her ass, digging his tongue into each hole on the way up, getting a pair of gasps from her. He undid his belt and pulled the button and zipper apart on his jeans, revealing he was going commando as he lined up his now seven and a half inch shaft with her tight entrance. As he propped the head against her hole, he looked up to her to see her looking back and smiling. "Do it." She said, and with that, he pushed forward slowly sliding upwards until he hilted himself inside of her. He waited a moment for her to adjust to the intruder, then pulled back until just his head was in, then slowly pushed back in. He slowly picked up the pace as he could feel her loosening up. With ever thrust, she let out a quiet gasp. She definitely wasn't used to this. He reached around her waist and started teasing her clit with a finger, getting a startled gasp in return. It wasn't too long after he started teasing that he felt her tensing up around his shaft. He felt her muscles trying to milk him, and it was pulling him closer and closer to his release, until she reached around and grabbed his ass in an effort to pull him farther into her. That set him off, as he pushed himself as far in as he could reach, and felt rope after rope leave his tip, planting itself deep inside her.

He hugged her from behind as he came off of his biological high, and she gave an awkward kiss.

Suddenly pounding could be heard from the door. "Will you two hurry up? We're almost at Boston!" Jack's voice could be heard, causing the couple to laugh quietly.


	5. The end of an Era

Longshot was on his way to the police department where the one who bomb threat was being held. He was reading the file of the suspect, and it didn't quite make sense... Human male, no obvious reason to hate omnics or those who supported them, not enough technical skill to put a bomb together... Either someone else put it together, and he was the fall guy, or something bigger was going on...

"We're here." The officer said as the transport landed on the roof of the station. Longshot nodded, got up, exited the craft, and entered the building.

\--a few minutes later--

"So, Mr. Monticello... James Monticello... Odd name... Where's the bomb?" Longshot asked... The man just looked straight ahead, sweat on his forehead. "Fine, who built it?"

"I did."

"Bullshit. I've gone over your entire record. Not only are you not smart enough to build one, you have no reason to. Who built it?"

"I did."

"Why?"

"I..."

"Cat got your tongue? Can't come up with a simple lie? Who built it, and where is it?"

"I don't know who built it. They said if I didn't do what they wanted, they'd kill my girlfriend..."

"I will do a lot worse to you if that bomb goes off and kills civilians. That's a promise."

"It... It's in the bay. Near the old wooden ship."

"The Independence?"

"Yeah, in a barrel near the end of the dock."

"Thank you." Longshot said as he got up to leave. When he was out of the room he waved for the chief, a large balding man, to follow him. "Get his girlfriend in protective custody, just in case. I need a ride to the docks."

"Take the transport on the roof." It'll get you there in no time.

\--A short ride later--

Longshot stopped the transport at the end of the pier, set it in hover, and ran out of it looking for a barrel. Luckily there were only three there. He knocked the first one over and saw a device strapped to the inside. He quickly pulled it out then took the cover off of it... Only to find a note on the inside cover.

The note read: "Good luck disabling the bomb. Though even should you manage to, a chemical agent will release and begin altering the dna of all those around. We shall give you a hint, there's a reason we had it placed near the water.

"Fuck..." Longshot said as he finished reading the card. He looked for a timer of some sort, and found a flip up screen. It had what looked like a chemical formula, and a timer at 17:31 and falling. He clicked on the screen and tried calling Angel, to see if she might understand the formula at all.

"Hey, you. How's it going?" She asked as she popped up on screen.

"Got a quick question for you... Do you know what kinda formula this might be?" He asked as he held the bomb in front of the camera.

"Is that the bomb?"

"Yep."

"Oh god let me check..." She said as she opened her database. He stood there waiting for a few minutes while she checked. "I don't have anything like it in my files at all... I'm running simulations now..."

"Take your time, I've got fourteen minutes before it explodes or spews that shit out..."

"How much is there?"

"Let me check..." He said as he carefully pulled it apart. "About a twenty ounce bottle's worth..." Is that a lot?"

"Mein god... You need to get that out of Boston now! Even if the bomb explodes, it could alter the dna of everything for miles!"

"The note says it was put on the docks for a reason. Does it break down in water or something?"

"Yes, but it would need to be exceeding deep for the bubbles to break down before they enter the atmosphere."

"I have an idea you'll hate." He said with a smile. "I've got a police transport here, right? I fly out over the ocean, deactivate the bomb, and program the transport to go the the bottom of the ocean, and jump out before it goes under!"

"That's only assuming the chemical doesn't get released the moment you stop the bomb from going off..."

"...eh, I'm going with it. Love you."

"I love you too, be careful."

"I'm leaving my rifle, coat and hat here. Be about impossible to swim with them on..." He said as he set them down on the pier. "Call you later, Sweetheart."

"Be careful. Don't get yourself killed."

"Hey, remember, heroes never die" he said as ended the call. "Well, let's hope it goes that well..." He said as he walked onboard the transport and piloted it out to the ocean.

He got almost five miles out when he halted the craft and set out working on the bomb. "Who built this thing? An old cartoon coyote?" He mumbled to himself as he followed the connections to their chips, and to the explosives themselves. He finally found the wire to deactivate the bomb and cut it... Only to watch as the screen changed from a countdown timer, to a redheaded women in a robe. "Who the fuck?"

"Congratulations, you've deactivated the bomb, though, as the note said the chemical will still release regardless. You have fifteen seconds after this video ends to get this device to a deep enough point in the water that the chemical won't make it to the surface." Longshot made a mad dash to the controls and forced the transport to a sharp nosedive into the ocean aiming for the breaking portion of a wave for his entry and bracing for the impact. The vessel hit , but he kept his grip on the controls forcing it deeper into the water until the water finally short circuted it. The pressures of the water started making the craft groan as the front windshield shattered from the stress. Longshot tried to swim into the flow of water, but couldn't make it. Suddenly he heard a loud beeping noise, then a loud explosion as he was forced into the side of the transport. The last thing he felt was his head slamming against the side...

\--Two days later--

Mercy stood on the end of the pier, next to the Independence, tears streaming down her face. The city Mayor, a middle-aged woman with streaks of grey forming in her black hair, walked up to her. "I'm so sorry for your loss..." For what it's worth, we plan on building a monument at the start of the pier dedicated to his sacrifice."

"Thank you."

"With your permission we would like to use some of the things he left here before taking off displayed for all to see."

"I think he would like that. Here, take his rifle and hat. He had those longest." She said with an attempted smile, only for more tears to fall.

\--Six months later--

The city of Boston erected a statue of Longshot at the end of the pier, with a plaque that read:

"We, the people of the city of Boston, hereby erect this statue, and the display behind it, in the memory of the young man who saved the lives of everyone within this great city. May it stand forever and give us hope that there will always be those who will stand and fight for the people's right to peace."

...


	6. To Hell and Back

His dreams had been dark. Visions of monsters and demons in hell itself. His nightmares continued on near forever, his mind trapped in a constant fight for survival and dominance. He learned how to kill them, and stole their magic, their technology and turned them both against them, laying waste to their infernal world.

He killed them by the thousands, eventually wiping out larger and more powerful ones, until he found the biggest one of all. The battle raged for days, neither seeming to get an advantage, until the battlefield itself began to come apart from the fighting. With all the effort he could muster, he threw everything he had at the giant monstrosity, and finally brought it to it's knees.

As he delivered the killing blow, he felt energy emit from it in vast and powerful waves, forcing him back before the beast erupted in a blinding light...

...

...

...

"Ugh..." Came a grunt from the sandy beach. A shaky, semi rotten arm drug the rest of the body away from the water. "Worst... ugh!... Fight... ah!... Ever!... ckckcerrRRAHH!!" he groaned and moaned as he got himself to the top of the shore. He sat up as best as he could, pulled out his computer and powered it up.

The first thing he saw was the date, more then twelve years had passed! Second was that his system had been flagged as obsolete and due for maintenance. He keyed in the nearest Overwatch medical facility, and it pinged a hidden bunker underneath Boston itself. He got up as best as he could and began making the slow and painful trip into the darkness.

He walked for hours, the first signs of dawn's light were beginning to reveal themselves when he reached the entrance. He keyed in his code, and was quite surprised that it worked, and the door slid open. He could tell by the lack of dust that the automated cleaning drones were still functioning, which meant at least some of the bunker still had power.

He kept moving, noting the rooms he came to as he searched for the main medical lab, hoping it was equipped with the medical drones Angel had designed to preform surgery autonomously. As he limped along, his mind drifted to the dreams and nightmares he had, how lifelike they were, and the different abilities he had stollen from them in it. He held out his hand and tried to cast a fire creation charm, one of the simplest spells he learned in that dream, as if to prove to himself it was nothing more than a hallucination, only to see weak flames flicker to life in the shape of a pentagram.

"Oh... Well shit..." he said as the spell ended, and he was left with the feeling that not all dreams are meaningless.

He kept moving, and finally found the medical center, and it was amazing. All top of the line equipment from when he went under, most designated by Angel. He stripped off his clothes and gun belt, layed down on the automated table, powered it on, and watched as it scanned his body via several different wavelength readers. The outlook was rather grim... Both his legs were gangrenous, as was his right arm, he had several semi-healed lacerations to his torso and back, and a couple broken teeth. He triggered the surgical procedures and let it get underway. He took deep breaths as the mask came down and put him under, unaware that his presence had been noted by someone else in the base...

...

...

...

Widowmaker's laser alarm worked like a charm, and she was ready to flee or kill whoever was foolish enough to hunt her down. She looked through he scope at the hallway, seemingly ready for anything... save the limping form of an old friend entering the surgical center. She waited patiently for several minutes until she was certain no one else had entered, and silently moved from her position to check on the limping sniper.

As she approached, she could see the surgical procedures had already begun, he was unconscious and the machines were removing gangrenous tissues and limbs from him, and replacing them with modular prosthetics. She fought the urge to gag at several points, reminding herself she was to appear unfeeling to anyone, especially the rest of Talon.

She knew her presence here would be compromised if he was here too, and she turned to gather her supplies and leave, though she couldn't help but offer a silent goodbye to a friend from before...

...

...

...

John awoke in pain, which was good. It meant he was still alive and the operations were successful to a point. He triggered the table to raise his head up so he could see how well his procedures went. As his head came up, he could tell he didn't have any legs left, the prosthetics were fused to his pelvis, and his right shoulder now housed his mechanical right arm.

"Great. I'm a sith lord..." he mumbled as he looked for a wheelchair and found that, though painful, he could in fact use his new limbs. "Angel stepped up her game..." he said with a smile as he got off the table, picked up his clothes, and wandered through the halls to find some suitable replacements. He was quite sure as he wandered the halls that no one had been here for some time, and hoped that any clothes he could find hadn't deteriorated at all.

After some time of searching, he finally found some housing areas and got some decent clothes for the time being. The basic Overwatch uniform wasn't attractive at all, but it covered his bits and that was suitable. He moved on through the halls to the cafeteria to try and find some food**. **After he got his meal, a basic MRE, he pulled up all Overwatch history in the last dozen years, and was quite unpleased at best.

"Overwatch accused of corruption? No shocker there. Blackwatch wasn't exactly squeaky clean... Aaaand the secret got out... lovely... Oslo got attacked... Some medal ceremony... Mmm, can't go wrong with rigatoni... Shit... Ana's dead?! By Ams's hand?! What the Fuck?! The chief and fucking Reyes died in Switzerland... The omnics are fucking up Russia... And a monkey is calling for a resurrection of Overwatch... that's the last time I blow myself up..."

He pushed the tray away from him, got up, put the computer in his pocket, and began walking to the armory. "First better prosthetics, then some new weaponry..."

...

...

...

More than a week had passed, and he had in fact done some upgrades. He had pulled apart various arms, armor, and even an old Overwatch transport to do so. His legs were now embedded with jump jets to help him move, and his arm now had a grapple line and a portable computer unit. He had built a suit that integrated the jump jets into the back, and utilized stealth technology to ease entrance and exit to dangerous locations, but was also resistant to small to medium weapons fire. The helmet was designed to act as a rebreather and the full suit was airtight, so he could traipse through the water without worrying about drowning again.

But the weaponry and transport were where he truly shined. To the transport he equipped a stealth device and a large number of weapons, including heavy pulse rifles, a missle launcher system, and Puff the Magic Dragon hooked to a hideaway turret, because subtle tactics rarely work. It was effectively a mobile base for him.

As for his rifle, he had assembled his masterpiece. Drum magazine fed .50 caliber multi-firerate rifle with a multifunctional scope, accurate to over a mile. Needless to say, he was proud of his accomplishments.

...

...

...

He sat and stared at the monitors in the bunker Commander's office, and was looking at all reports on Overwatch personnel movements since the recall, which wasn't much. Either people went ratting on them, or they weren't coming...

"*sigh*... The recall was almost a year ago...I need to find Angel... Let's see if I can get a location on her suit...Nothing... must've disabled it after everything went to hell... What's she been up to anyway?... Who the fuck is Genji?...Genji Shimada?... She's dating asian ninjas now?... Twelve years gone... *sigh*... Fine... This city will be my home then... I'll be it's Batman... only without the clown stalker... But first I need to train... Gotta get in shape if I'm gonna do this... and I should see if all those spells I learned work here too..."


	7. Thoughts and Firepower

"The gangs of the city are afraid. They started calling me El Diablo, or the Demon, on account of the magic I stole from Hell. Kind of odd since I'm not Hispanic at all... Regardless, I've been piecing that nightmare together between missions... the religious texts and near death experiences point to it being real, but I can't be sure. I just got back from putting down a large group and their drug ring, and the cops are absolutely loving me. Then again, doing half their job for them usually does make them happy.

As for Overwatch, I'd bet dollars to pesos that they know I'm out here, but I don't think they know that I myself am back yet, which is good. I don't need their panties in a bunch over what I'm doing here. The less restrictions they can throw in my way, the easier it is for me to stamp out the gangs and the bastards running them. And I'm getting real close to finding out who's bringing in so much dope. But beyond that, Overwatch finally made a real appearance, they showed up in France, and stopped a Null Sector invasion in Paris... Ang... Angela was spotted with Genji... I know I should be happy for them, if not unsurprised that she moved on, but still...

But one way or another, we finally get to my tech and spells. On the side of the tech, most of it is working like a charm. I did have to do some maintenance on a thruster on The Assaulter, the name I gave my transport, after some asshole hit it with a rocket. Also needed to work on the autopilot because the damn thing almost flew into a tree. But beyond that, everything is working out well. On the side of my magic, I have been using that to my advantage more than I really should. I have been feeling a lot more vicious against the gangs when I use my spells, and I'm not entirely sure why. It may have something to do with the origin of it all, but who am I to guess?"

...

...

...

John clicked off the recording device in the bunker Commander's office, and let out a long sigh. "Big ass bunker with one guy to populate it..." He began toying with his prosthetic arm. "I'd call Overwatch and join them, but then I'd be stuck dealing with my ex-fiance and her new boytoy every day... I don't really want to get mixed up with Ashe right now... that crazy/hotness chart would've been useful back before I met her... Now I know how Piccolo felt... this bunker is my wasteland... Everyone is effectively dead or has moved on..."

John sat there for a long while, staring off into space, when a chime could be heard from the computer. His eyes flicked back to the screen and saw some news footage of large robotic troops attacking the civilians. "Time to go to work..." he mumbled as he grabbed the face from his helmet and attached it to the rest, hearing the satisfying hiss of the seals engaging. He moved quickly through the base and using the computer on his arm, started priming the Assaulter for takeoff. When he got there, he climbed up the ramp, hopped into the pilot's seat, opened the hidden entrance to the base, and flew the transport out, triggering the stealth system to turn the flying tank invisible.

As he flew over the city, he could see the troops nearing Quincy, along with a realy big one that looked like a specialty mech from an old anime. "Gonna need to focus on that thing first..." he mumbled as he readied the weapons systems for a surprise attack. As he approached, he got the notification of a successful target lock and opened fire, raining rounds, missiles and pulse weapons fire on the head of the mech, dealing a great amount of damage before it turned and began returning fire. A round managed to connect hard as the transport maneuvered back behind the behemoth and continued firing at the now weakened point. Suddenly, a large blast from within the head disabled the mech as it collapsed to the ground.

"Down you go..." he said before coasting down to the streets filled with the smaller mechs. As he got down there, he spotted a familiar face trading shots with the mechs. He passed overhead of the cowboy, and let loose a barrage of minigun fire into the mechs, devastating their lines. As he finished his pass, he turned the transport around and readied for another run, only to see the oversized mech getting back up "Didn't learn the first time?" He said as he corrected his course and readied the rest of the weaponry aboard.

"Get your ass back down!" he yelled as he opened fire, the vessel vibrating slightly from the recoil. The mech however did not fair as well. The first salvo opened up its torso, and the second tore it apart. John then turned the transport back around and moved it into the intersection where McCree was waiting. As the vessel landed, John triggered the bay door, and walked down to reintroduce himself.

"Thanks for the help. Almost got done in back there." McCree said as he walked up the the heavily armored figure, and clearly noticed the Overwatch logo stamped into the chest piece, even with the pentagram emblazoned over it. "You ex-Overwatch?"

"You could say that. When did you lose your arm?"

"Good many years ago. Mission went bad. You?"

"Bout a dozen years ago. Blew myself up a few miles off the coast from here."

"You...kid?" He gasped as the cigar fell from his mouth, and watched the figure pull the mask from his helmet with a hiss.

"Good guess, boss, though I think my hint was overly obvious." John said with a smirk, before being pulled into a hug by his best friend and mentor.

"How are you alive kid?"

"Outstandingly bad luck, and fighting through hell itself..." he said as he held out his hand and summoned a pentagram of flame.

"Oh... so all that Demon ahit... that was for real?"

"Yeah... between that and hearing what and who Angel's been doing... Eh... It's been a bad time all around..."

"Yeah, I heard that too... You using the old bunker for your base?"

"Heh, course I am. Great way to keep myself out of the way. Speaking of which..." He said as he replaced the mask on his helmet, "We should get out of here before the press shows up..."


	8. Hellfire Messages

"So you've been alone down here for months?" McCree asked as he walked down the ramp of the transport.

"Yeah, spent most of the time building my gear and upgrading the Assaulter. Though after that battle, I'm thinking I need to make some weaponry changes on it." John said as he opened up a crate and started pulling out tools.

"What you thinkin on doin?"

"Pulling the missile launchers out of the Assaulter and running a railgun or two underneath. Probably run them as a hideaway system, just like the minigun."

"Like your old rifle?"

"Yep, just a whole hell of a lot bigger. That thing fired rounds the size of a rice grain, but I'm thinkin on going to the size of a small potato. The only issue is I'll need to pump up the power generation on the thing to be able to get it to work. Even pulling the missile launchers won't leave me with enough power to run it."

"Huh..."

"What's you're plan, boss? Where you headed next?"

"Headed across the pond to join up with the others. How about you? Gonna join back up, kid?"

"*sigh* Probably not... I don't have much interest in spending time around Angela or her robotic boytoy. And regardless, I've got some things to finish up here. Then again... after that fight, my work may be pretty easy from now on..."

"Well, let me know if you change your mind."

"Oh if I do, it sure as hell won't be quietly done." John joked.

...

...

...

"Base Commander's log, i need to eat more fiber... Shit jokes not withstanding, things have been quite busy here. Null sector has been sending in forces almost every time I turn around. They don't seem to get the message that fucking with one of the oldest and most united cities in the country is a horrible idea. They may be trying to whittle down our resolve, but all they are really doing is giving us weapons and metal for making armor.

The civilians created a militia and have been working with me to defend the city. It's a good thing too, because the military seems to be bogged down defending other cities across the country. The militia has even been sending raiding parties to other nearby cities to try and liberate them from Null Sector, and has been rather successful. Salem has been completely purged of Null Sector and have started arming up in case they return.

As for Overwatch, they were spotted at some part of Route 66, and have since been working city to city trying to wipe out Null Sector's forces, so we'll see how that goes...

Finally, I've been putting out some feelers on Ams, and have been getting some sparce reports of her whereabouts. She seems to be working as an assassin for an almost anti-Overwatch group known as Talon. I've begun compiling info on most of the more important members of Talon, including a certain redheaded bitch that ruined my life. If I ever get her within my scope, Talon will be able to fit her remains in an Altoids tin."

...

John switched off the recording system and pulled up his incoming messages. Some more reports of Talon and Overwatch activities had come up since he last checked them, and he decided it was better to give them the once over just to be sure. Talon seemed to be avoiding his agents currently, but Overwatch was a far cry from being subtle. They had cleared out a large portion of the southern California area, as well as parts of Nevada and Mexico, but were definitely slowing down in their efforts...

"They need a reason to keep fighting... and I need to help get more militias formed... I think it's time I get in my New York Groove..."

...

...

...

The Demon stood at the head of the table in a conference room with a decent number of Militia leaders bickering over their next move. Some were going on about focusing more on recruiting, others on upgrading their weapons and armor, and others wanted to build better defenses to help when the next attack came. However only the leader of the militia and his most trusted lieutenant had noticed that the Demon had yet to speak, until he slammed his metal fist into the table, leaving an obvious dent, silencing the entire room.

"Finally... now what I say here must not leave this room. I will begin preparing to make an attack on the Null Sector forces in New York City." several gasps and questions of sanity were heard before he continued. "I will be focusing on reconnaissance and taking out targets from a distance before the true assault begins."

"Are you sure that is wise?" The leader asked. "We have several skilled snipers in our ranks. Surely we could spare one of them to do this?"

Suddenly the Demon reached up and pulled the mask off of his helmet wth a hiss, and causing every other person in the room to gasp. "Trust me, I know what I'm doing."

...

...

...

The Sniper sat on a fire escape on the side of a skyscraper in New York city, just watching the battle take place a block away. He pulled a rifle off his back and rubbed it with nostalgia on his mind. If he was coming back to the world of the living, better to do so with something familiar. He placed the gauss rifle on the metal floor of the fire escape, and pulled up the firing history of the gun on the computer on his arm.

He took a deep breath and sighted in on the clearest target first, he fired, and took the machine completely apart. He began picking shots as he used to, any that was good was golden, and soon gone. The military forces in the city finally began to make some progress as they began pushing back against the robotic army, until the smoke and debris made it impossible for the Sniper to take shots. He pulled the gun back onto his back and jumped off the fire escape, letting his jumpjets bring him safely to the ground, then he triggered his stealth system and disappeared as he turned crystal clear.

He quickly made his way to the next battle taking place and readied his .50 caliber rifle, set it to burst, and began giving the soldiers covering fire while devastating the robotic invaders. It only took a short while to get the soldiers in a position to triumph over their foes, and he was gone, invisible and hunting for more targets.

...

Mercy, Reinhardt, Brigitte, Tracer, Winston and Mei were resting after clearing out The remaining Null Sector forces in San Francisco, and were watching the news from across the country.

"...and now we take a look at New York, where the Null Sector forces have had been delt several devastating blows by US forces as well as, surprisingly enough, the Demon, who appears to have started leaving Boston to take up the fight elsewhere." the newswoman said as pictures of the Demon popped on the screen. "Strangely, the Demon seems to have borrowed the late John Wagner's gauss rifle and has used it that would make even the Veteran Sniper proud..." she said as video footage came up of several points where long distance shots were taken and destroyed multiple robotic soldiers at once.

"Mein god..." Angela gasped as she watched the footage, as some where the Demon used his pistol to take out several troopers while soldiers reloaded and took aim. "He's alive..."

"Angela, he's been dead for twelve years, that can't be him." Winston said trying to calm her down.

"No, that's him, I would know his tactics better than anyone but McCree."

"She's right. It is him, and that is his sign that we must keep fighting." Reinhardt said as he pointed to the screen, where an arial image of Null Sector forces were burning in hellfire, with flaming words floating above reading "Heroes never die!"


	9. Love Rekindled with Hellfire

...

...

...

The battle raged across Central Park, militia and US army forces were devastating the Null Sector forces with the help of the Demon. Weapon's fire and explosions turned the once beautiful park into an unrecognizable hellscape. Medics were rushing out of the area with wounded and back in to get more to bring to the medical facilities. A large mech had been spotted approaching the scene, and the Null Sector forces appeared to be reforming around it.

"Reform the lines!" the Demon yelled to the troops. "We'll beat these bastards even if I have to fight though hell again to do so!"

"Sir, reports are saying the mech is more advanced than the other ones that have been brought down! It may even have... better... aim..." a young soldier yelled before palling at the sight of the mech aiming at the forces.

"Take cover!" the Demon yelled before creating a hellfire barrier to shield himself and anyone behind him, before having a large blast hit it hard enough to force him back a bit. "I didn't come back from the dead to be outdone by some rich bastard's toys!" he yelled before launching a fireball into the masses of Null Sector drones, destroying any in several yards of the impact point, then creating another shield to withstand another blast. "Give me some covering fire!" he yelled as he rushed the robotic troops and summoned a large upheaval of hellfire from the ground, destroying all within a large radius, before the large mech focused it's beam weapon on him and fired...

...

John was in pain, more than he had ever felt at one time before, and he knew what he had to do. He used all his pain as a catalyst for the most powerful spell he knew. The beam around him had ended, and he shouted the spell, held out his hand to the mech, and launched a pure jet of plasma that impacted on it's torso, and quickly ate through to the other side, causing a large scale explosion that ripped it apart. "Fuck... You..." he gasped as his spell ended, and he fell to his cybernetic knees to catch his breath and assess how badly hurt he was. His helmet was badly damaged, the mask had broken and scratched up his face, but luckily his eyes went unscathed. his right arm had been damaged, the hand had melted off, as had several pieces of armor on it. His chest plate had several pieces of metal piercing it, and he had lost half of his left leg to melting, rendering it nearly unusable.

However, the battle seemed to be over, the rest of the Null Sector forces seemed to have collapsed after the mech had been destroyed, which would mean they were unusable without a signal from a large mech or other control facility. He felt a hand on his shoulder, and turned to see several medics trying to get his attention, which he waved off. "Go help the worse off." he ordered. "I'm half replacement parts anyway." He mumbled as he pulled what little was left of his mask off of his helmet. "Gonna need to find a better material..."

...

...

...

"The battle of New York city seems to have reached it's conclusion with the Battle for Central Park ending with the destruction of the Null Sector's giant mech." the reporter announced on the screen. "The undoubtable final blow was delivered by none other than the Demon himself, who, by all reports is John Wagner himself, who claims to have fought through hell itself to return to our world. His response when asked "What was hell like?" was simply "Overly muggy and full of monsters." "

"I knew it." Mercy said as she watched the news broadcast.

"... he was also asked whether or not he would try to reach the other side of the country to find his fiance, only for him to say, and I quote, "As far as I know, she's still playing with that Japanese windup toy, so no." "

"WHAT?!"

"That's a new one..." Gengi said from behind her.

"WHY DOES EVERYONE THINK WE ARE TOGETHER?!" she yelled at him, getting only a shrug in response.

"...we wish the iconic sniper a speedy recovery from his injuries, though it would seem he will be out of combat for some time..."

"What? He was injured?" Mercy asked before grabbing the remote and rewinding the news thirty seconds.

" "...windup toy, so no." We can only hope that he isn't taking her dating again too hard, as his wounds in the fight were rather harsh, several lacerations, several burns, and obviously several shards of metal piercing his armor are just the start. Obviously we wish the iconic sniper a speedy recovery from his injuries, though it would seem he will be out of combat for some time..."

"Mein god... I have to get to him..."

"How? His vessel cloaks when in flight so no one can track it."

"He spends most of his time in Boston, he needs constant medical treatment, and his gear is all repurposed Overwatch tech... I think there used to be an Overwatch medical bunker underneath Boston... Yes there was, I designed the medical facilities myself. That's where he'll be..."

...

...

...

"Well that fight could've been a good bit easier..." John mumbled as he limped into the medical facilities and began the painful process of removing his armor. "This is gonna hurt..." he said before ripping his chest piece off, taking the shrapnel with it, before he collapsed onto the floor.

...

John awoke on the metal table with the medical procedures finished. "How..." he mumbled as his foggy head cleared from the anesthesia. He felt his hand being held and turned to look at the one holding it, and saw none other than his ex-fiance glaring at him. "I guess someone did remember these old bunkers..." he mumbled as he pulled his hand away.

"You had a piece of shrapnel in your lung, and were going into shock when I found you. You could've died." she said to him.

"Like I haven't done that before." he replied. "Where are my pants?" he asked before grabbing the sheet off the table and tying it around his waist.

"Your one leg is effectively useless, and you're missing a hand."

"I have spares. I'm not stupid enough to not have some ready."

"Did you have any on your transport?"

"Hindsight is 20/20, Angela." he said as he walked out of the room, headed for the armory.

"Since when did you stop calling me Angel?" she asked as she followed him.

"Since I fought my way out of hell itself for a woman who had already moved on."

"And what if she never did?" She asked as he pulled out a new pair of legs, sat down on a bench, and began disengaging his old pair.

"Then she's just as foolish as her ex-fiance." he said as he finished on his legs, then got up to pull a replacement arm from the cubby next to the legs.

"So I'm foolish for not moving on?" she asked as he pulled his old arm off and attached the new one, then pulled the computer from the old arm and installed it into the new one.

"You spent how long moping over my death? Six months? A year?"

"Two years."

"Then you wasted a decade when you should've found someone new. The odds of my return were beyond astronomical, and you bet on it regardless."

"And I was right! I knew you would come back to me! Oh... But you didn't, did you? You believed some bullshit news story that had no evidence instead of coming home to me! What if you would've gotten me pregnant on our last time together? Would you have come to me then?" she yelled out, tears forming in her eyes.

"*sigh* You know I would've."

"Then why didn't you come back to me at all?!" she asked as her tears began to fall.

"Because I thought you were happy! I thought you had found someone else who loved you and you didn't need me anymore!"

"You country moron! I will always love you! I will always need you! Don't you know that?!"

"...no... I didn't..."

"...you... You didn't?"

"No... and maybe I should've came to see you, or at least sent you a message or something... but I thought you were happy... I'm sorry... alright? I'm sorry." he said, calming down as she pulled him into a hug.

"I am too. I just... I missed you so much, and when I found out you were alive... I just..."

"I know... I'm sorry... I still love you... you know that... right?"

"I know..." she whispered as the two lovers embraced for the first time in years.

...

...

...


End file.
